She's Taken
by Hannah Tennant-Cumberbatch
Summary: "I can assure you, good sir, that Miss Oswald will be wanting no more dances from you or indeed any other man this evening; as Miss Oswald is otherwise engaged for the rest of the night. Am I quite clear, sir? Miss Oswald is taken. And, I believe, she always will be."
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: Yeah I know this isn't great but I've had this rattling around in my brain. Might have a few more parts if I get good feedback... What do you think? Review please!_

_Disclaimer: Don't own don't sue._

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**_She's Taken_**

_:Part One:_

There were a number of things that the Doctor liked about Clara Oswald. Some of them were little, tiny, insignificant things like how she sort of bit her lip when she smiled or when she'd subconsciously fiddle with whatever came to hand when she revealed something about herself that she'd never really let anyone else know. He also liked the other, more noticeable aspects of his new companion- her inability to make him laugh even in the direst of situations and the way her hand sort of, well, _fitted _into his. Like it was _made _for him. The tender, soft skin which comforted him so and how her fingers intertwined perfectly with his even though they were considerably smaller.

He even liked the height difference. Clara was almost a foot smaller than he was, but he loved the way she perched on her tiptoes to hug him and how he could bend his neck into her shoulders. She was also quite light to carry, which was handy as Clara seemed to get into trouble rather a lot, so he could just scoop her up into his arms and lift her into the TARDIS without any bother.

Sometimes, he'd just watch this marvel of a woman for no apparent reason; admiring her pretty yet innocent-looking face as she scanned a book or the enlightenment and wonderment which took over her delicate features when he showed her something new. It was quite alarming, really, the amount of times he'd caught himself just staring at her silhouette as she did the most normal of things. He'd tried stopping, he seriously did, but it was just one of those things that no matter how many times you tell yourself not to, _you do it anyway. _

So he just did it anyway. Because, knowing Clara's track record, she had a habit of slipping away from him just when he wanted and _craved _her most. They would become so close and then just as he was making plans for the incredible future they could've had together _she was stolen. _Twice. There was _no way _he was letting her slip away again, not this Clara, but even so; he thought he'd better keep an eye on her. Whether it was for his own pleasure or her own safety.

(It was pleasure. Mostly. Although he did not like to admit that to Clara when she caught him staring as she was doing some incredibly serious and complex hacking so the whole safety thing was a bit of an afterthought. Bad Doctor. Bad, bad Doctor.)

They were having a light break from travelling in the TARDIS, as Clara was tired and needed to sleep as _apparently _humans can't keep adventuring without having a pitstop (lightweights). The Doctor drew the line at 'keeping an eye on her' while she was asleep, although sometimes when she dozed off on the sofa in the library she looked so peaceful and…

_Stop it, Doctor!_

So he decided to fix some parts of the TARDIS- he was still getting used to the new desktop background, all silver and purple and ooh, spinny! It was a lot darker and metallic than previously, but he liked it. It was time for a change. A new TARDIS for a new companion. It seemed right, somehow.

He was in the middle of re-attaching the wibbly lever to the spinning thingy when Clara emerged from the right corridor branching off from the control room, her straight, brown hair messy from sleep and wearing a shirt and shorts which he could presume were pyjamas. She stretched out her arms and yawned before venturing down the stairs, sitting on the top one with a thump.

She didn't mind looking natural in front of him. She often didn't feel the need to wear makeup and cover her face with a mask of insecurities; Clara was always herself. She never tried to be anyone else and he definitely didn't want her to. "Morning."

The Doctor chuckled shortly. They were going on Clara time. "Morning."

She leaned forwards, pressing her chin into her hands. He quite liked it when she did that. "You busy?"

The Doctor abandoned the underneath shelf of wires beneath the TARDIS platform (which still needed fixing) and slipped his sonic screwdriver back into his pocket. "Nope. Not busy."

Clara smirked, running a hand through her hair. She knew he was busy. "Right… Can we go somewhere then?"

"Somewhere." the Doctor mused, drumming his fingers against the floor. "Somewhere is good. Somewhere is brilliant. What kind of somewhere were you looking for, Clara Oswald?"

"Anywhere." Clara grinned.

The Doctor stared into space pensively for a moment or two, stroking his chin thoughtfully with his thumb and forefinger. _Anywhere _was such a hard category to work with- it was like looking in a fruit bowl and seeing oranges, apples _and _grapes, and being expected to choose which one is better and of course, how could you choose? Everything inside that fruit bowl was so different and unique and individual, it was hard just to pick one particular thing.

(Unless pears were involved. Obviously no pears would be in this fruit bowl. In spacey-wacey terms, pears would probably be Clom. Who would want to go to Clom?)

And then he had the most perfect idea.

The Doctor abruptly jumped straight from his knees to his feet, making Clara's heart jump a little. He dashed across the platform to the hexagonal platform, grabbing a few levers and pressing buttons as he did so.

Clara followed as she usually did. "What? Where are we going?"

The Doctor threw his arms up and gave Clara the biggest grin. "How about a bit of history, Clara Oswald?"

Clara frowned. "History?"

"Yes! History!" the Doctor announced proudly, "We haven't done much history! What do you say to the Bath Assembly Rooms, 1791?"

Clara's confused little frown gradually developed into an adorable smile; one that the Doctor often fell for because it was just so damn _perfect. _"A ball?"

The Doctor pointed at her, still grinning. "See! I knew that would make you happy! We might bump into a young Jane Austen if we're especially lucky."

Clara started to bounce up and down like a giddy little kid, making the Doctor bounce up and down too. "You mean, like in Pride and Prejudice? That's one of my favourites!"

"I know." the Doctor answered knowingly. He'd seen how many times she'd picked up the original when they were in the library. "The TARDIS should have a dress in the wardrobe for you, if you look, for you, Clara Oswald, are going to be the talk of Bath!"

"Ooh! I've always wanted to be gossiped about!" Clara responded, the excitement present in her current body language. She gave the Doctor one last quick grin before speeding off down to the left wing, her barefooted footsteps carrying down the corridor.


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: Wasn't expecting this big a response! Anyhow, hope you enjoy._

_Please review, they make my day!_

_Disclaimer: Don't own Doctor Who._

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**_:Part Two:_**

About half an hour later (which felt like much, much longer than half an hour to the Doctor- how long could it possibly take to put a dress on?) Clara skipped down to the control room, clad in a slim, muslin gown which seemed to fit her petite figure perfectly. She also had a woven bonnet perched on the back of her brunette tresses and a lace parasol she couldn't resist but grab on her way out of the wardrobe. After all, how often did you get the chance to casually travel back to the 1700's? Might as well go the whole hog.

She span around on the spot a couple of times, grinning as the light material floated in the air and dropped; enchanted by the silkiness of the fabric. "What'd you think?"

The Doctor, well, he thought a number of things about Clara at this point. Mostly about how _beautiful _and _perfect _she looked, with that adorable grin on her face and a glisten of cheekiness and mischief in her bright hazel irises. Another part of him thought that he should just scoop this miraculous tiny (oh, she wouldn't like that) human being in his arms and keep her forever and never let her go because she was _exactly _what he wanted and needed and he couldn't possibly ever, ever give her up.

(However, he assumed that that wasn't what Clara was expecting him to say and he should really keep that quiet. She meant the dress, not _her. _What you thought about the dress, silly. Silly Doctor.)

He scrunched his brow, the right word on the tip of his tongue but he couldn't really _eject _it, per say. There were so many words just rushing through his head that could describe how Clara looked right now, but not one was sufficient, _good enough,_ for Clara Oswald.

"Nice?" he finally suggested, although he realised that as soon as he'd said it that _nice _was definitely not the correct word. Nice? How could he possibly! It was so mediocre and average and definitely _not _Clara Oswald. "I think it's very nice."

Clara looked at him for a few moments. Her eyebrow rose (oh Rassilon, no, not _the _eyebrow) and she looked slightly shy of pleased. "Nice? Really?"

"Erm…Lovely!" the Doctor grinned, striking his hands out and gesturing at Clara's gown. Lovely. That was good, wasn't it? Lovely. "Not nice, lovely! Lovely Clara. Very, very lovely."

The eyebrow eased back it its original position (oh, thank Rassilon for that) and a small smile graced over her lips. Lovely was acceptable. She pinched the sides of her gown with her forefingers, admiring the cloth and the craftsmanship. It was like she was really living her favourite novel. "And the bonnet? Not too much?"

The Doctor looked slightly astounded for a moment. Really? Was he the one giving out hat advice now? Now that was new. New feeling. Usually, it would be the companion giving _him _hat advice. Usually 'take that monstrosity off your head right now or I'll obliterate it'. But now… Clara was wearing a bonnet and he had no hat at all.

"No, not at all." he smiled warmly, because he genuinely liked it. He loved it. "I like it."

"Oh." Clara gave him a chuffed little smile, which formed the most adorable dimples at the side of her lips. It was like she could sense his credibility, that he wasn't just saying he liked it because if he didn't she would hit him. Which she would. "Thank you."

"Maybe I should get one." the Doctor shrugged, "I like a hat."

Clara giggled at the statement, but then straightened when she realised that the Doctor was in fact deadly serious about this obligation. She managed to ease her chuckling (just). "What? Really?"

"Erm, no." the Doctor straightened his bowtie self-consciously, making out that he'd never said such a thing and would never wear a bonnet. That would be stupid. Very stupid. "Of course not. Very stupid."

"Okay…" of course she didn't believe him. He_ always _fiddled with his bowtie when he wasn't being truthful. But, of course, she'd already thought about this situation before she'd come down to the control room. She didn't want the Doctor to feel left out, did she? So, out of the creases of her parasol, she produced a red, box shaped hat.

She grinned, leaning on the very tips of her toes in order to perch it on the edge of the Doctor's scruffy-haired head. "Here you go!"

The Doctor's mouth formed a small 'o' of surprise as his hands gripped the edges of the hat which was now sitting on top of his quiff, fingertips skimming the soft felt material.

He grinned down at her and she grinned back, make him automatically grin even bigger because, well, she does that. "A fez!"

"Yeah!" she replied, marvelling in how she could make him so happy with a simple thing as a hat. "Well, I know you like them, and I couldn't have a hat without _you _having one, could I?"

"You… You like it?" his eyes glisten ever so slightly, sheened with happiness because it's a fez! Which she likes!

Fez and like are two words that he thought would never go together.

"Of course I do!" her head tilted ever so slightly and a pensive look glazed her features. "It's cute."

"Cute!" the Doctor announced with flourish, "You think my fez is _cute!"_

"Yes. Very." she beamed, then frowned. "Not sure if it's good for eighteenth century England, but you're in a bowtie so…"

In that moment, he was just so happy that he pulled Clara Oswald into his chest and kissed her forehead giddily. Sorry, did he mention? A companion that _likes fezzes! _"Clara Oswald, you are brilliant!"

She laughed, pushing him away bashfully because she believes it's just a hat. "Okay, mister, someone needs to calm down…"

He shook his head in complete disbelief (she _likes fezzes!) _for a couple more moments. He has found someone worth keeping.

(Not just for the whole fez thing, by the way. He likes her a lot more about her than just that aspect. Although, that is a good aspect. A very good aspect indeed.)

"Anyway…" she tucked her arm underneath his and smiled up at him, that daft face still in the wackiest of grins. "I thought someone suggested a ball?"

"That I did." the Doctor admitted, squeezing her arm tightly. "Now, Miss Oswald, would you care to accompany me to the central Bath assembly rooms? I believe, though this may be a rumour, that a young girl by name of Miss Jane Austen is currently residing there…"

Clara's eyes widened. "Well, we better be going, Sir Doctor! I simply cannot miss the opportunity of casually bumping into Miss Jane as of today!"

"I can assure you, Miss Oswald," the Doctor leaned to whisper in her ear, "We will not miss a thing. We will be the newcomers, the mysterious travellers, the faces no-one as of yet has seen around Bath… We bring stories, we bring gossip, we'll be the talk of the town. Everyone will remember the time when the Doctor and Clara entered Bath and no-one will ever forget. We'll…"

"Can we go in a horse and carriage?" Clara interjected, excitement present in her facial expression.

The Doctor, a bit let down that his credible speech was interrupted by such a futile question, sighed. "Yes, yes fine. Horse and carriage it is then."


End file.
